Clarity
by greyeyes0
Summary: When Harry Potter's new wife Ginny dies, he sinks into a deep depression and turns to drink. When he wakes up weeks later in a long term hospital ward in St. Mungo's, he finds that not only is his long time nemesis Draco Malfoy his Healer, but that Draco had been charged with getting Harry's life back on track. But it may end up being an entirely different track altogether...
1. Chapter 1

**Clarity**

**_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?_**

**_If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_**

Nobody was surprised when Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley married within a year of the war.

Everyone agreed it made sense; the war had proved nothing if not that life was precious.

The wedding was lavish and borrowed heavily from Harry's savings. It was not at all to his liking, but Ginny liked it.

And if Ginny was happy, so was he.

Harry booked a surprise honeymoon in Paris. At first it was perfect.

But by the third day Ginny was complaining she was feeling weak and drained.

At the end of the first week she could no longer leave the hotel room.

Within two weeks she was dead.

Harry returned home a broken man. He locked the door and kept the world out.

He took comfort in bottles of gin, finding they could erase pain like nothing else could.

At first, it was like a game.

One glass for every person important to him who'd died.

James. Lily. Sirius. Dumbledore. Lupin. Ginny.

Then it was just drinking enough to numb the grief that stole across his chest.

The first glass took the edge off. The second made him feel a bit better.

The third made things look not as bad as they were.

The fourth made him only hurt a little.

The fifth he barely hurt at all.

The sixth he forgot what it was to feel grief.

The seventh he was unconscious.

This became a daily routine, a part of his day that he was dependent upon in order not to sink in the grief that threatened to overcome him. Every morning he would wake up on the cold flagstones in his kitchen.

Every morning but one.

For one morning, he didn't wake up again.

.-.

_Beep_.

_Beep_.

One morning Harry vaguely wondered where the beeping came from. Later, he realised they'd always been there, as long as he could remember.

_Beep_.

He could no long discern the passing of time; whether that thought had come a moment after the first, an hour later, or the following morning, he did not know.

_Beep_.

Yes, the beeping had always been there...

_Beep_.

It was almost comforting. Something beating along with his heart, constant, always constant...

_Beep_.

.-.

_Beep_.

_Beep_.

.-.

_Beep_.

_Beep_.

The problem with the beeps was that it was easy to lose count. Easy to lose track of time...

_Beep_.

I could count them, Harry thought vaguely.

_Beep_.

One...

_Beep_.

Two...

_Beep_.

Three... Three what? What was he counting?

.-.

_Beep beep. _

Harry's world was thrown into disarray. Everything he knew changed. The world as he knew it was topsy turvey.

_Beep beep. _

His world was now two-beeped.

_Beep beep. _

What did this mean? Harry didn't have the capacity for panic but there was an insistent edge to his thoughts.

_Beep beep beep_.

Three beeps? He thought wonderingly, in a voice somehow detached from his own, somewhere else in his head.

_Beep beep beep. _

He concentrated on the beeps as best as he could..

_Beep beep beep. _

But what was that? Things were changing again...

_Beep beep beep. _

For once, there was more sound than the beeps. Just discernible, flickering quietly was another noise. Harry tried to listen carefully, but he soon forgot what he was trying to do...

But then there was no need. The noise cut in across his brain, drowning out the beeps and his thoughts, drowning out the only noises he'd ever heard...

"...coming round soon...

...showing positive signs...

...a month, that's right..."

Harry could make neither head nor tail of what these words meant, they might as well have been in the wrong order for all the sense he could make of them.

He now had a third noise to add to his collection, with the beeps and his own thoughts. It reminded him of the latter, it made the same type of noises...

_Beep beep beep. _

But the strange thing was that the words weren't originating from his head...

They were someone else's thoughts - perhaps the same thing that made the beeps...?

_Beep beep beep. _

The thoughts had a tone to him that felt strangely... familiar to Harry... they felt as familiar as his own...

He _knew_ that tone...

Suddenly other things began to break into his consciousness, in fact his brain was overloaded with noises - there were beeps that weren't _his_ beeps, voices that weren't _his_, and noises that be couldn't even relate to.

Above all, the second tone, the familiar one, continued to crash in through his thoughts, getting progressively louder and more understandable.

"-can you hear me Potter? Potter? If you can hear me, I'd like you to open your eyes-"

Harry suddenly became aware of a part of his body he didn't know he had. Eyelids, sitting below his thoughts.

He flexed them, experimentally.

_WHITE. _

White flooded his eyeballs, seared and burned, it was all he could see and think, the blackness he'd been so comfortable with, he'd known all his life had gone-

Part of the white was moving. Eyes watering, Harry saw a figure in a white coat leaning over him, with skin and hair almost as white as the ceiling and walls that surrounded them.

His mouth was moving and Harry knew, _knew_, it was his tone that had invaded his head, and kept him company, and Harry tried to listen-

"-how are you feeling Potter? Like hell I'd imagine." He smirked and the sight of that hit Harry like a brick wall, and in that instant a torrent of information flooded his brain, one word brighter than the others, branded into his brain and slipping through his lips.

"Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy smirked down at him, tugging on the white coat that fell around his slim, lithe figure.

"Actually, Potter, it's _Healer_ Malfoy now."

Harry stared at him blankly. Unperturbed, Draco carried on grinning deviously.

"We're going to be getting very well acquainted over the next six months- or haven't you heard?" he asked with a delighted smirk.

"I'm your specialist Healer, Potter. The next six months of your life, at the very least, will be spent with _me_."

**_Clarity is one of my ultimate Drarry songs, hence the title. If you read the lyrics you'll see why. I just think the 'our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy, our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?" sums up a Drarry relationship perfectly._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Clarity**

**Chapter Two**

**_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?_**

**_If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_**

Harry's mouth was unsurprisingly dry, so the next word came out as a croak.

"No."

Malfoy sneered. "Ah, come on now Potter, let's put the rivalry behind us-"

"Too right." A voice cut in. A second healer, a tall dark haired man strode into sight, clapping Malfoy on the shoulder. Malfoy scowled, looking away from Harry and the new arrival.

"Mr Potter." the man greeted Harry with a booming voice and a welcoming smile. "I'm Healer Schintzvell, the head of the long term rehabilitation ward. We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other-" now it was Harry's turn to scowl- "But for now I'd just like to borrow _you_, Healer Malfoy."

Malfoy turned on his heel instantly without a look back at Harry, and followed the man around the curtain apparatus that separated the beds.

"As I warned you earlier, Healer Malfoy you must maintain a professional relationship _only_ with Mr Potter. That means addressing him as 'Mister' or 'Harry' if he comfortable with it. You are not at school now, remember. Grudges and last name basis are not appropriate. "

Harry could hear every word Schintzvell said in his low, carrying voice, which was hardly surprising considering only a thin piece of cloth separated Harry from him.

"Yes, Healer Schintzvell." he heard Malfoy mutter monotonously.

"As deputy head of this department I decided to trust you on handling such a special case. Not only do you have the wizarding saviour-" Harry winced "and nation's heartthrob under your care, but also someone with whom you share a... turbulent past. If you cannot put your differences aside, Healer Malfoy, I'm afraid Harry Potter will have to placed under someone else's care. Are you capable?"

"Yes!" said Malfoy irritably, and the next second he had strode around the curtain, back to Harry. He began tapping various wires connecting to Harry's skin with his wand, murmuring incantations but otherwise remaining silent.

"Now you're conscious, we're going to need to get your stomach pumped Pot- _Mister_ Potter." Malfoy said finally, without looking up at Harry.

"What-" Harry began, but felt a great weight roll over him, and his eyes drooped of their own accord.

.-.

When Harry woke up, he was in the same bed, in the same ward, however there was no daylight streaming through the windows now. The ward looked even more sterile in the harsh electric light, and Harry took in the scene before him.

The ward bore obvious signs of being a long term home to people. Moving pictures littered some bedside tables, flowers adorned some, and all the blankets were different from one bed to another - clearly imports from home.

Harry tugged his starch white hospital blanket to his chin as he stared at the woman in the bed opposite without really seeing her.

He could sense the wave of grief growing threateningly close to him, ready to tide him over if he so much as _thought_ about any of _those_ people. He hastily tried to distract himself, his heart thumping in his too-thin body.

The first thing his eyes alighted on was Draco Malfoy.

Harry watched him at work with interest; he did not attend to the patients surrounding him with the indifference and silence he had treated Harry with.

It was clear to see that he truly cared about the people here; Harry saw with some astonishment the look of concern that Malfoy adopted with the most ill of the patients, and the interest which filled his face as he listened to the more lively patients speak.

The patients' faces seemed to light up as he strode over in his white coat - Healer Malfoy seemed to be somewhat of a favourite.

When he spotted Harry was awake, he immediately walked over.

"I suppose you have some questions to ask me Mister Potter?" he asked with a carefully composed mask of politeness.

"Yes," Harry said immediately. "Why am I staying here for six months? Even in the Muggle world recovering from a lot of alcohol doesn't take that long."

Malfoy gave him a very faint sneer.

"It's not because you're physically ill. You're considered a liability to yourself." he explained with exaggerated patience. "You are a national treasure, a figurehead for the new Wizarding world after.."

Malfoy appeared to chew over what words to say, a peculiar, drawn look overcoming his face. "..after _certain_ events. It would do nothing for the country's morale if you died."

"I see." said Harry quietly but bitterly. "I'm here so the Ministry can run the country with as few hiccups as possible."

Malfoy surveyed him for a long time. Finally he spoke, shuffling the clipboard in his hands as he did so.

"No." he said quietly. "You're here to keep you safe. Six months sober minimum. I'm here to make sure that happens."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, apparently trying to figure the other out. A thought occurred to Harry, and he mentioned it, although a little hoarsely.

"Are you the specialist Healer for all these people?" he asked, indicating the six people in their ward. Malfoy cracked a smile for the first time, a small, ironic one.

"No, Po- Mister Potter. Unbelievably my priority in this ward is you. These people all have their own specialists. Some of them share, so I suppose you're lucky."

"Lucky?" Harry repeated faintly, fiddling with a cord which was taped to the back of his hand.

"How am I lucky?" he said it in such a pained way that Malfoy was left in no doubt over the depths of that question. Harry wasn't just referring to his well being but his life.

"Because _my_ only patient is you." Malfoy said, giving Harry tiny smile that surprised him a little.

But then he felt sick with himself, as out of nowhere, an image of Ginny popped into his head.

It was like removing a crucial log from a dam; suddenly a whole barrage of memories poured through - his parents, Sirius floating though the veil, Dumbledore falling off the tower, Lupin, Fred and Tonks lying motionless in the Great Hall, the morning when he couldn't get Ginny to wake up again.

Harry began to shake uncontrollably as the grief hit him, and all he could think was- "Oh my god, these people are never coming back, they're dead because of me, they've all died, I'm never going to see them again-" and he couldn't stop thinking these thoughts, they were all he could hear. He didn't even notice when he started screaming out loud.

"Stop! Calm down!" Malfoy said worriedly but with a hard look in his eyes.

Harry carried on shaking uncontrollably and yelling.

Malfoy quickly delved a slim and pale hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his wand. He quickly but calmly murmured a spell, and conjured a Calming Draught.

He placed a calming hand on Harry's shaking frame and gently pushed the goblet to his lips which were firmly pressed together. Malfoy gently prised Harry's lips open and tipped the potion down Harry's throat, until his shuddering body fell still.

"Alcohol." Harry gasped, seizing Malfoy's white coat. "Please. Bring me it. It helps me forget. It numbs the pain. Please, Malfoy."

Malfoy shook his head violently, white blond strands falling into his eyes. "No, Mr Potter. I cannot allow you to consume alcohol. It's counterproductive - not only are you blocking away the memories with alcohol but you're also meant to be sobering up. Trust me, Mr Potter I should know," he lowered his voice to murmur confidentially to the shaking Harry.

"You cannot blot out bad memories. I have more than enough of them, you know. But I moved on and worked past them. If you think about them often enough you kind of become... Immune to the pain of the memory."

Harry stared up at Malfoy with bloodshot eyes, tears trickling down his cheeks. "Please, I'm begging you." he pleaded. "Please... _Draco_, help me..."

Malfoy grasped Harry's shoulder gently.

"That's my job." he reminded him with a small smirk.

Harry clutched his white coated arm for support, silently sobbing and shaking as the grief took ahold of him. It was a mark of how professional Malfoy was that he did not complain of Harry's painfully tight grip, but instead rubbed the dark haired man's shoulder slowly and sympathetically as Harry collapsed against him.

"I'm here for you Pot- Mister Potter." he said again, quietly. "It's my job."

**_Reviews are loved:)_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Clarity**

**Chapter Three**

**_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?_**

**_If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_**

Life in the hospital was repetitive but there was one thing that changed continuously; Harry's opinion of Draco Malfoy.

Harry's new favourite hobby was watching the Healer; anything to distract himself from his own thoughts.

Malfoy was the only person who walked around in the ward and so it was natural that he should be the object of Harry's focus.

He discovered more things about Malfoy in the first two days in the ward than he had in eight years of Hogwarts.

The first was that perhaps he wasn't a complete twat.

Malfoy made a circuit of the beds every few hours, usually staying at Harry's bed for the least amount of time.

Harry got the distinct impression that Malfoy was avoiding him, but he did not care; in fact he embraced the silence.

Not all the patients were the same, however.

The girl in the bed next to Harry had broken down and was attempting to pull out all the cables connected to her.

Malfoy had hurried over and gently prised her away, asking in a soft, incredibly concerned voice that Harry would never have imagined could come out of him.  
Harry could hear the conversation pretty clearly.

"What's wrong?"

"Drink. Bring me it. Now."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Why would you need it?"

"I made some horrible mistakes." the woman had whispered. "Some terrible choices."

Harry watched attentively as Malfoy had crouched down to whisper confidentially back.

He could just make out what he said.

"Me too."

"You?" the woman had asked with weary disbelief. "What mistakes could you have made? You're a top Healer with an excellent job in a promising career."

"I made all the wrong choices. I chose the wrong side, what was easy not what was right. I succumbed to those trying to tempt me into turning bad. And I did. And it ruined my life. Now I just have to live with all the regret, as I do every day. As you do. Without drink." he added.

"Every day?" the woman whispered, half entranced, half horrified.

"Not a day goes by when I don't regret the choices I made." Malfoy said softly, and at that moment the blonde head turned and looked directly at Harry, who could not look away fast enough to pretend he hadn't heard everything that had been said.

Malfoy slowly stood up and smoothed out his white coat. He walked over to Harry, thrusting his hands deep inside his trouser pockets as he did so.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," he said, quiet enough to avoid anyone overhearing.

"Why?" Harry asked, in a flat voice. He was unable to summon up any emotion recently.

"It is not helpful to your recovery, Potter, reminding you of the past." he said, his clear eyes resting on Harry's colourless, drawn face.

Although he did not say so, it was clear he truly wanted Harry to make a full recovery.

Long gone were the times he wished Harry ill.

"Did you mean it?" Harry asked in the same expressionless voice. He wasn't sure why he was asking - this was the most he had spoken in the last two days.

Malfoy, who had of course not failed to notice Harry's unwillingness to talk, looked surprised at his interest, as it was the only thing he'd been interested in recently, but did not mention it.

"Mean what? That I regret it? That not a day goes by when I don't?"

Harry nodded mutely.

"Yes I did mean it. I made some horrendous mistakes Potter. That's why I'm in the rehabilitation department. It's not a big payer but I want to help those who have made mistakes like I have. And stop them from making any more. I just wish..."

Malfoy trailed off, looking down the ward with a drawn look on his face.

"What?" Harry prompted when he did not speak.  
Malfoy looked down in surprise; whether it was at his speech or he had forgotten Harry was there, he did not know.

"I just wish someone had stopped me from making mistakes too." he finished, looking at Harry. Harry stared into those intense pale eyes, thinking hard.

He had had the chance to stop Malfoy from making mistakes.

That day in the bathroom.

But he hadn't.

Malfoy was just another name to add to the list of people he hadn't saved, he realised.

His thoughts were veering dangerously close to those which would cause him pain; perhaps Malfoy recognised this from a look on his face, because he hurriedly spoke.

"I didn't mean you, Potter."

"But I could have saved you." Harry whispered. "In the bathroom. But I hurt you instead."

Malfoy nodded after a moment or two. "Yes. But I don't blame you Potter- I really don't." he added, at the look of disbelief on Harry's voice.

He waved his wand and the curtains surrounding Harry's bed closed, sealing them in, and a chair appeared out of nowhere. He sat down on it by Harry's bed, and he undid his white coat to reveal a crisp grey shirt and black tie under neath, clearly getting comfortable.

Harry stared.

"Potter, you are not responsible for my downfall, nor anyone else's. Except perhaps You-Know-Who." he added as an afterthought.

"A war would have happened no matter what you did. Those people would still have met the Death Eaters who killed them. They still would have died." he said firmly.

When he saw Harry's expression closing up at the mention of those who died, he seized Harry's wrist.

"Yes. Those people. I said it, and you should too. You are not responsible for their deaths, Potter. Okay?"

Harry looked at him blankly, obstinately saying nothing. The only noise came from the machine by his bed beeping.

"Oh you're not really going to lapse into silence again are you?" he asked with a bite of impatience.

"I'm trying to help you Potter. Help you see sense. If anyone is responsible for their deaths, surely it is I?" he murmured softly, his hand still encasing Harry's wrist.

"Lord knows I made mistakes. I screwed up royally. I did worse than you Potter. I brought about Albus Dumbledore's death!" he said, breathing slightly faster.

Harry watched in him with slight alarm.

"No you didn't." he said finally.

"Yes I did Potter, and don't you dare try and say you did." Malfoy said somewhat fiercely.

"I'm not." Harry said flatly. "He was already dying when you were assigned to kill him. The black hand? It was cursed - slowly killing him. Snape told him so, so they arranged for Snape to kill him if you failed, so that you were not disgraced."

This was by far the longest thing Harry had said in days, and they both knew it.

The silence seemed loud.

Malfoy merely stared at Harry, clearly processing what he had said.

"Even so." he said eventually. "I fought on the wrong side. I am more to blame for the deaths you mourn then you are. So please don't punish yourself. Punish me, by all means, but not yourself."

As Harry looked at the pale, tall man talking to him so earnestly by his bed, he realised something.

"I can't punish you."

Malfoy's breathing hitched almost imperceptibly.

"Why not?"

"Because you've tried to make amends." Harry waved his hand at the ward surrounding them. "You haven't just wallowed in pity like I have. You've tried to redeem yourself."

"And have I succeeded?" Malfoy asked softly.

He unconsciously leaned in towards Harry to hear the answer.

"Yes."

Malfoy rose as if to get out of his chair, unwrapping his fingers from the hold on Harry's wrist, but Harry hurriedly caught them.

"Don't go." he asked weakly.

A look of surprise flashed across Malfoy's angular features, but he obediently sat down again.

"Do you want me to contact Granger and Weasley?" Malfoy asked suddenly.

Harry's heart jumped.

"_No!_" he said quickly, struggling to sit up. Malfoy placed a steadying hand on Harry's chest - the hand that wasn't being held onto by Harry.

"Okay, okay! Don't overexert yourself, it was just a question."

He looked at Harry curiously.

"Tell me, Potter, why not? The Golden Trio split up?"

He didn't say it maliciously but with what sounded like genuine interest.

"'Don't want anybody I know to see me like this." Harry muttered. "They're probably busy with their own lives anyway."

"You know me, and I can see you like this." Malfoy pointed out brightly.

"You don't count." Harry sniffed.

"Thanks a lot." Malfoy muttered.

"You're a Healer." Harry said. "I can't help you seeing me like this."

Malfoy nodded; he could understand the notion.

"Even if you weren't, I wouldn't mind." Harry added, before he could stop the words from escaping his mouth.

Malfoy stared at him, his slender hands frozen from fiddling with his name tag.

"Why not me?"

"Because of all the people in the world I'd imagine that you of all people could understand best how guilty and horrible I'm feeling." Harry muttered, staring at the starch white blanket which covered his body.

"I'm here to talk, Po- Harry." Malfoy said in the soft tone that Harry had been heading more and more of recently.

Harry's head snapped up at the use of his name.

"I'll remember that... Draco." he murmured hoarsely. He felt like crying for some reason

At that second the curtains were wrenched open; Draco instantly dropped Harry's hand from his as if it had scalded him.

Healer Schintzvell appeared in the gap separating Harry and Draco from the rest of the world.

"Sorry to break up this cosy chat, but Healer Malfoy, the patient in bed number two is coming around." he said coldly, staring at Draco with a icy anger that reminded Harry irresistibly of Snape.

Draco stood up instantly and twitched his wand. The curtains closed, the chair disappeared, and Harry was left alone once more. Then he truly did cry.

**_Review pleaseee:)_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Clarity**

**Chapter Four**

**_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?_**

**_If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_**

Whether intentionally or not, Draco visited Harry's bed at least twice as much as he did the other patients, often lingering to ask how he was feeling in the same soft, concerned voice.

For his part, Harry obediently answered the routine questions in a dull voice. He felt as if the life had gone out of him. He had nothing to live for now. No wife or family, no parents, and friends that could easily get along without him. He just lay there day after day feeling like an unwanted and unneeded spare part.

Draco watched him through the calm mask all doctors wore, his own mask better than the others's thanks to years of practice. But this still did not mean Harry did not notice the way his face sometimes flickered into sad when Harry stared past him, answering question in a flat voice before turning back to fix his stare on the ceiling.

One day, Draco seemed determined to drag Harry out of his depressive state. He turned up that morning grinning, missing his white coat for once and just bearing a matte black shirt, waist coat and trousers.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly, walking straight to Harry's bed the minute he entered the ward for the day shift, not glancing at another patient but him.

Harry's eyes moved from the bedside table to rest on Malfoy, but other than that he made no effort to show he had heard him. Draco apparently disregarded this.

"Do you want a book to read today?" Draco asked, his hands plunged in his pockets, still smiling a tiny bit.

Harry shook his head fractionally. Draco did not seem surprised. Holding up a finger to indicate he would be one minute, he turned on his heel and strode off down the ward.

Harry watched him until he disappeared from sight.

Draco came striding back a minute later, holding a tightly rolled up newspaper in his pale hands.

"Do you want to read this?" he asked, offering it to Harry. Harry gave a small, tired shake of his head again.

"Do you want _me_ to read it to you?" Draco asked, clearly unwillingly to give up.

Harry regarded him for a long minute. His clear grey eyes were wide, innocent, his eyebrows raised hopefully. His hand was still outstretched.

Finally, Harry conceded.

Draco's eyes flashed with triumph and he offered Harry a gentle smile with displayed two rows of perfect, white teeth.

Harry rolled his eyes and Draco seemed to take this as a cue to sit down and unfurl the newspaper.

"First Ministry centaur employee," he began. "Firenze, former Hogwarts teacher..."

Harry winced at the word 'Hogwarts' and Draco stopped momentarily. Harry had no idea how Draco had noticed considering he had been reading a newspaper at the time, but he was now watching Harry concernedly and he nodded mutely for Draco to continue.

.-.

Reading the newspapers became a routine for Harry and Draco. The minute seven am struck, the white doors would swing open and Draco would stride in.

Harry's heart would leap each and every time, as the arrival of Draco was a godsend after eight hours of his absence, and the tedium which came with sleepless nights. From six fifty five, his eyes would rest tiredly on the double doors, waiting and watching for their opening.

When Draco walked in, clutching a newspaper, he would make a beeline for Harry, and greet him pleasantly. He was long since used to Harry's silence, and would proceed to read, quite unperturbed.

Within a month of this routine, Draco was selecting which articles he thought would interest Harry and tactfully avoiding those which may cause him distress.

As a result, Harry didn't hear one word of news about Hogwarts or a mention of any of the Weasley's for weeks on end, but instead would hear the often missed little Quidditch titbits buried in the backs of pages.

Although he did not once say a word as to what he wanted to hear, Draco seemed to just _know_ what to read him.

Little did he realise that the look of rapture he saw in Draco's eyes when they read about Quidditch was mirrored in his own. Or that Draco noticed the way his eyes widened as he heard detailed accounts of matches. Or the way his eyes tightened a little whenever there was a mention of anything vaguely related to Hogwarts; perhaps a mention of Hogsmeade or an article written by Zacharius Smith.

This routine was easily the highlight of Harry's day; he would unconsciously sit up a little straighter when Draco approached him, and his face would look a little more alive. When Draco reluctantly had to leave, only then would Harry slump back down lifelessly into the pillows, closing his eyes once more, plagued by nightmare pictures behind his eyes.

.-.

On the one month anniversary of Harry's time in hospital, he felt more defeated than he had ever done. His mood only proceeded to worsen as Draco did not appear at seven am.

By seven fifteen, Harry was feeling fretful. This was a disturbing change of routine; their morning newspaper reading was comfortable and familiar, and he was sure it was too early in his recovery for him to cope with yet more change.

Harry was breathing heavily. A tiny voice in his brain, the human old-Harry part that had been ignored for two months, was saying he was being completely irrational and overreacting.

This snide voice, so different from Harry's new flat one, was playful and sarcastic, and was asking why he was so bothered by Draco-sodding-Malfoy's no-show. It was no big deal after .

Like most things Harry had done, the pessimistic, louder voice added.

Rescuing Ginny from Tom Riddle. Inconsequential.  
Saving Sirius from the Dementors. Inconsequential.  
Helping Cedric in the maze. Inconsequential.

Because he couldn't save everyone, could he? He tried and failed. It added up to nothing because they all died anyway.

They all died.

Drenched in sweat, Harry began compulsively gnawing at his finger nails, shortening them until they drew blood. Still not stopping. Relishing the pain.

Suddenly his hand was being tugged away from his mouth. He whined, and looked up, blinking the sweat out of his eyes to see Draco Malfoy standing over him, looking furious.

Harry felt the life, the anger, drain out of him, and he fell back to the pillow with a tired exhale.

"What _do_ you think you're doing?" Draco snapped angrily. Harry stared nothing, but stared at the hand encased in Draco's. It was pouring with blood.

"Everything I do is inconsequential. I can't save anyone."Harry mumbled. It was the first time he had spoken in weeks. Draco's eyebrows shot up, and some of the anger seemed to drain away.

"That's not true." Draco said a little sharply, brushing his wand over Harry's wounds. The nails grew back to their original length. Harry watched them silently.

Draco was used to Harry's silence, so he carried on. "You saved me."

Harry stared.

_"No one can help me," -_

_his whole body was shaking- _

_"I can't do it...I can't...It won't work...and unless I do it soon...he says he'll kill me..."-_

_Tears streaming down his pale face-_

_Malfoy wheeled around, drawing his wand-_

_Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, "Cruci -" "SECTUMSEMPRA!"-  
_

_Blood spurted from Malfoy's face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword- _

_He staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash-_

_Wand falling from his limp right hand-_

_White hands scrabbling at a blood soaked chest-_

_Harry fell to his knees beside Malfoy, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood._

Harry stared.

"You saved my life." said Draco softly, apparently aware of what Harry had just relived. "And now I'm trying to get yours back on track." he finished, sheepishly pulling a newspaper out from behind his back.

Harry offered a small, grateful smile, and it was his first in weeks. Draco grinned crookedly back, pulled a pink cupcake out of his pocket. Iced on the top, in beautiful elegant script were the words "_One month sober!_" and Harry felt a rush of- something- for this Healer, this man, who was dedicating his waking hours to helping Harry when Harry had done nothing of the sort for him.

"This was why I was late." Draco said apologetically, smiling widely as he handed Harry the cake.

"Best to keep it hidden from the other patients, they'll get jealous." he whispered conspiratorially. Harry was hardly listening however; he was staring at the cupcake. Memories were assaulting him, but not painful for once; the great pink cake from Hagrid, iced in a way that could not be more different than the beautiful, artistic script produced by Draco on the cake held in his hand.

Tears were swimming in his eyes when he looked up at Draco, but he didn't care much - Draco had seen far worse than his tears. Harry nodded to show his gratitude, and the tears overflowed to cascade down his cheeks.

Draco wordlessly handed him the box of tissues from the table, and Harry took them, avoiding his eyes.  
He watched Draco sit down, cross his long, suited legs and clear his throat.

"Tornados sweep their way across the Quidditch league to finish first in what has been a turbulent season..." he began. Harry settled back and let his eyes fall as he listened to the cultured voice he was slowly beginning to favour above all others.

Draco's voice soothed him, and he found he could finally truly let go from the stress caused by his absence.

It would appear that Draco Malfoy was fast becoming his own personal tonic, he thought absently.

**_I planned out the whole of this story in my head, even the end, which is something I haven't done for any other story - not even A Malfoy By Any Other Name, which I am only planning one chapter at a time, rather foolishly._**

**_I'm very excited to write this now I know how it's going to go_.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Clarity  
Chapter Five**

**_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?_**

**_If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_**

Harry was drifting in and out of a fitful sleep that night when he heard a commotion that forced his heavy eyelids apart.

He sat up suddenly, knocking the pink cupcake into the dusty area under his bed as he did so.

He felt a twinge of guilt but his attention was soon drawn away to the scene unfolding before him.  
The double doors into the ward were thrown open and four Healers in white coats - Harry squinted to see if he could recognise Draco- hurried in carrying a stretcher between them.

Lying on the stretcher was a young man, his face unnaturally pale. It wasn't pale like Draco's was - it was an unhealthy, deathly pale. They rushed him to the bed next to Harry's and effortlessly lifted him from the stretcher to the bed. There was a flurry as the Healers bent over him, murmured incantations and waving their wands.

From his close proximity, Harry recognised Draco with some relief. What was going on was frightening him a little - life in the quiet ward had made him forget the panic and bustle of the outside world - and seeing Draco was a comfort.

All sounds in the ward fell silent; one patient gave a tiny snore, and all the Healers watched the man in the bed anxiously. Harry was watching Draco.

The seconds ticked by and Harry realised something must have gone wrong; the man was dead.

Suddenly he retched and spluttered violently. All the Healers gave huge sighs of relief and started talking to him. Harry felt oddly aware of emotion for the first time in months, as he watched Draco smile happily and clap a dark haired, handsome Healer on the back.

Harry let out a heavy sigh and settled down in his bed once more, letting his eyes close over the scene before him.

It was strange seeing Draco here at night, but right now he'd rather face his nightmares than watch Draco laughing and joking around.

It made him feel a little ill, and he wasn't sure why. It was probably the effect of seeing the ill man.

Probably.

"Hey, you." Harry heard, and his eyelids flickered open in surprise once more. Draco had detached from the gaggle of Healers to speak to Harry.

Harry looked up at the pale man and felt a rush of affection for him. He had no idea how to deal with this; he hadn't felt anything but grief in two months - compared to that affection felt alien and something he should feel guilty about.

"I could have been asleep." Harry grumbled, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. This was the second time in twenty four hours he'd spoken - more than the last two weeks put together.

Draco grinned crookedly at him, all white teeth, and Harry suddenly felt the last of the sick feeling wash away from him.

"I saw you watching." Draco said, running his hands through the soft white blonde strands of hair which strayed across his forehead. "Good grief, did you think I hadn't noticed? You're not very good at spying." he added teasingly.

Harry surprised himself again by scowling at Draco. Some deeply buried instinct to interact with another human being appeared to have taken over the barrier of silent grief.

"You know I'm only kidding, Potter." Draco said, smirking at him. The little action made him so look like the school boy Harry knew, it made him suddenly realise how truly young he was.

He was really little more than a boy; he was still a teenager at nineteen. A teenage Healer. Harry wondered for the first time how Draco had managed that.

"Shu'up Malfoy." Harry murmured. He watched as Draco's eyes flickered to the discarded cupcake on the ground, and his expression hardened.

"I knocked it to the floor when I sat up-" Harry said quickly. The feeling in his normally-dead voice made Draco look up quickly.

"It's fine." he said, looking away, and Harry still felt horribly guilty. A few minutes of silence passed.

"Alcohol overdose." Draco commented, still looking at the man in the bed next to Harry. "Poor man." Harry felt a inexplicable twinge of irritation. "Little sister died suddenly."

Draco looked back at Harry, his hands buried deep in his pockets as always. "We knew him, you know." he said quietly, his grey eyes fixed on Harry's. Harry frowned slightly, his heart picking up the pace. Who was it now?

"Michael Corner." Draco said, answering Harry's unasked question. Harry's heart sunk; he remembered him now. An ex member of the DA and ex boyfriend of Ginny's.

"Poor people, turning to drink..." Draco murmured, and then froze. He looked at Harry with wide, horror struck eyes, his dark eyebrows knitted together.

"Potter- Harry- I'm so sorry- that was so inappropriate-" he said, looking utterly horrified at himself.

Harry felt his face tight and drawn; he nodded stiffly and closed his eyes, shutting Draco out.

He didn't miss the sound of retreating footsteps some minutes later.

.-.

When Draco entered the ward at seven am as usual, only a few hours after Harry had last seen him, his face was the picture of woe.

He opened his mouth to speak, but for once, Harry cut across him.

"It's fine." he said tiredly, watching Draco's expression flicker.

"It was insensitive of me-" Draco began earnestly, but Harry shook his head and silence fell for a minute or two.

"Shall I?" Draco asked unusually tentative, gesturing towards the cheap chair by Harry's bed. Harry shrugged indifferently, and he sat down, whipping a newspaper out as usual. He bypassed the front page, and Harry vaguely wondered why Draco thought the headline might distress him.

"Muggle accidentally enters St. Mungo's in what has been described as a major security breach..." he read, and Harry unconsciously let out a contented sigh. Draco's eyes flickered up from the page, both intrigued and amused, but Harry did not notice.

.-.

"So is grey not my colour then?" Draco asked suddenly some time later, and Harry gave a start; he realised he had been unconsciously gazing at Draco's shirt for quite some time, deep in thought.

Harry surprised both of them by offering a weak smile.

"No, no it looks good." he assured him, looking at the shirt properly for the first time. It was still unusual to see Draco without his white coat on, and Harry could now appreciate the way the grey brought out the striking colour of his eyes-

Harry stopped, horrified with himself, both by what he'd said and what he was thinking. Images of Ginny swam before his eyes.

"I mean- it looks fine-" he said, hastily trying to cover his tracks. Draco merely smirked, running a hand through his floppy pale white blonde fringe.

"I'll keep reading, shall I?" Draco asked, still smiling slightly.

"The Holyhead Harpies have announced their name of their new Seeker, who is to replace the late Gin-"

The words seemed to die in his throat as he slowly looked up at Harry from the newspaper.

Harry felt as if all the light had gone from the room, from the world - hearing her death unexpectedly like that was such a shock and he suddenly felt violently sick-

Harry leant over the side of the bed and retched, tears mingling with vomit and cold sweat which has sprung up from nowhere.

Draco leapt to his feet immediately, but not away from the sick; he instantly was by Harry's side, rubbing his back and murmuring soft words of comfort, knowing all the while that Harry couldn't hear him. He didn't move away, even when the sick splashed onto his expensive Italian shoes and suit legs. He remained by Harry, cradling the sobbing man in his arms.

.-.  
Harry didn't remember being put to sleep, but he remembered waking up on his side.

The first thing he saw was Draco Malfoy, bending over Michael Corner to adjust his pillow, laughing loudly as he did so at some unheard joke. He clapped Michael on the shoulder as he continued to laugh, and Harry was suddenly struck with how gloomy their relationship was in comparison.

No wonder he was over there with Michael and not with Harry. Now it would no longer be Harry it made a beeline for and spent longest with, it would be Michael, and Harry felt like he was soon going to lose another person in his life-

Harry felt sick again.

.-.

"You have some visitors." A familiar voice announced, and Harry's eyes flew open in shock. As the scene swam into view, he realised Draco was talking to Michael Corner, his back to Harry. Harry's heart inexplicably sunk even lower once more.

He watched tiredly as a young, dark haired couple came running in through the double doors, wearing rain splattered coats, eyes only for the patient next to him.

"Michael!" cried the young woman, glossy black hair swinging madly behind her as she ran forward.

"Cho! Terry!" Michael exclaimed, raising himself up on his elbows. Harry realised with a sick jolt of horror that this was Cho Chang, and he hurriedly rolled over to face the other way. The last thing he needed was to be recognised here- it would get out to the newspapers- but here he was trapped in this bed-

"Pott-" A voice called, and Harry started a hacking cough to drown it out. Draco walked around the bed to face him with a furrowed brow.

"What _are_ you doing, Potter?" he asked quietly, dropping down on to his haunches, smiling with amusement at Harry's frantic expression.

"Don't want anyone to see me." Harry muttered, trying in vain to pull the duvet further up over his head. Draco chuckled and extended a pale, slender hand to help.

Seizing the end of the blanket, they both pulled and the duvet suddenly gave way, and Draco lost his balance and swayed forward onto Harry momentarily.

Harry's eyes widened and Draco's cheeks stained a dull pink that Harry recognised from their school days-

_-"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" Professor McGonagall barks.  
Everybody looks round. Malfoy flushes a dull pink; he looks furious as he steps away-_

-and Draco hurriedly pushed himself away from Harry and climbed unusually ungracefully to his feet. Brushing invisible dirt off his clothes, he quickly turned on his heel and strode out of side without another word.

**_I'm really enjoying writing this and every review means a lot peeps :)_**

**_(Just to clarify, I use peeps in an ironic sense)_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Clarity**

**Chapter Six**

**_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?_**

**_If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_**

"Harry-? Harry Potter?"

_Fuck, no, go away-_

Cho Chang detached herself from Michael's bedside and hurried across to the man in the next bed. His back was to her but he had a sinking feeling his messy hair was a notorious give away, as were the circular glasses on the bedside table-

"It _is_ you!" she exclaimed, clapping a hand to her mouth. Harry reluctantly rolled over, seeing he had finally been caught out.

"Hullo." he said tiredly, running his temple to try and ease the dull pain there. Cho's eyes expanded to saucers when she caught a glimpse of his face. Shock and disbelief flickered over her expression before fought it into a smile.

Harry supposed that at one time this would have irritated him; but now he was numb to other people's perceptions and opinions of him. They were just nothing, meaningless in the scheme of things - life was too short to care about what unimportant people like Cho Chang thought of him.

"You look..." she apparently struggled for words, chewing her lip. She settled for 'tired', apparently deeming this a suitable adjective for someone who'd been to hell and back.

Harry shrugged, his eyes sliding past her to a pale figure in the background, watching him with an almost anxious expression on his face. Harry felt slightly peculiar; he wasn't annoyed at Draco's surveillance, but...

"I don't know you were here Harry, I promise..." Cho whispered anxiously, her hand grasping Harry's, her wide brown eyes finding his.

Harry nodded mutely, uncaring. He was feeling particularly empty today.

Cho sat down by his bed, but unlike Draco, Harry found her silent presence irksome rather than comforting.

He watched Draco flitting constantly but inconsequentially from patient to patient, dancing around Harry's bed but not actually coming over.

Harry followed him with heavy eyes.

Nothing in his life was simple.  
.-.

Within minutes of Cho's departure, Draco casually walked over to where Harry sat, hooked up to his usual machines.

"I'll bet that was a nice change from my tiresome presence." he murmured, his grey eyes roving over the equipment but not actually Harry himself.

Harry made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat.

"Pretty girl." Draco said after a few moments. Strangely he said in a tone that made it sound like a question, not a statement. Harry's head instantly snapped up, and then he embarrassedly looked anywhere but the tall Healer.

"Some would say that." he mumbled, fiddling absently with some loose thread on the end of his blanket.

Draco did not reply for a while; but held his hands behind his back and stared up, apparently interested in the ceiling.

"Not my type." Draco said, finally breaking the silence which had set Harry on edge.

Harry held his breath as he waited for Draco to say more.

He didn't know why he expected more; Draco didn't owe him the knowledge, they'd only been friends (if that was what they could call it) for little over a month, and had hated each other 9 years prior to that.  
Harry knew extremely little personal details about Draco, especially the ones concerning his love life.

"Too flouncy. Girly. " Draco said conversationally, gazing upwards still. All Harry could hear was his own breathing.

"Girly?" Harry whispered finally, in a strained, cracked voice.

Draco finally moved, his head turning sharply to Harry's, his grey eyes searching intently. For what, Harry didn't know.

Apparently he didn't find it, for Draco heaved a heavy, conclusive sigh a few seconds later.

"Yes. I don't like that sort of thing." he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The rest of the hospital hummed with life around them, but Harry and Draco seemed enclosed in their own private bubble, whispering and staring as if no one else were there-

"Me neither." Harry mumbled, the words slipping away before he could moderate them, his mind numbed from the strange intensity Draco was projecting to him.

Draco's eyes widened; he unconsciously leaned closer into the bed, forgetting that Harry was the patient and he was the Healer, because in this moment they were just _Harry_ and _Draco_, all the complications, positions and stipulations melting away until they were just two boys-

"You don't?" he murmured, the pale eyes locked onto Harry's, narrowed slightly in interest. "Ginerva?"

Harry's breathing hitched momentarily, but he found Draco's presence soothed the panic that rose in his chest like a balm, and he found he could reply, albeit shakily.

"Too girly." he whispered, his heart picking up the beat, in accordance with the beeps from the machine.

Suddenly the honest words were tumbling from his mouth in a rush, as if Draco's proximity had eased all the protective barriers around the painful memories and emotions down. He had to tell him the truth about Ginny-

"I don't miss her like that Draco. I should, but I don't, I don't miss Ginny as my wife and lover, I just miss her as my friend, and sometimes I think that's all she ever was, just a friend that I loved very much-" he whispered quickly, finally letting out the thoughts that had been worrying him for weeks, the thoughts he knew deep down to be facts.

He stopped as Draco leaned a little closer into the bed, his body mere inches from Harry's, propped up high on the pillows. Harry suddenly had a flash of clarity and he knew what he wanted to do to Draco when he was this close and had his overpowering effect on him-

The machine beeped at an alarming rate but it fell on deaf ears as Harry and Draco stared wonderingly at each other, palms sweating and minds racing, realising things they hadn't fully realised before-

"Healerrrrrr!" a petulant patient called from across the ward, simultaneously sounding needy and smug. "I need more morphine!"

The voice shattered the bubble and suddenly the sounds of the hospital assaulted Harry's sense; he shook his head slightly - it felt like the time he'd emerged from the Black Lake after an hour.

Opposite him, tantalisingly close was a similarly dazed Draco, who was blinking rapidly and exhaling minty breath, unknowingly blowing it across Harry's face.

His face, other than dazed, was expressionless, and even though Harry's own mind was simultaneously blank and racing as it was, he managed to wondered what Draco was feeling - shock at realising how close they were-? How close they'd come-?  
_Regret-?_

Draco lowered his clear eyes and backed away, running a shaky hand through a shock of white blonde hair, wearing the same slightly panicked expression which Harry had seen on him once before.

When Draco had glimpsed Katie Bell and had ran off in a panic to the bathroom - and had stared, with an identical panicked, demented expression into a cracked bathroom mirror.

Draco strode briskly away to the beckoning patient, looking thoroughly worried and shell shocked, with Harry's eyes on him the whole time.

Draco did not return to Harry's bedside again that day.

.-.

Harry Potter did not sleep at night nowadays; that was a fact. A fact only known by two people, himself and one Draco Malfoy.

The night which followed the 'incident-that-nearly-was' as Harry referred to it in the privacy in his own head, was no different.

He tossed and turned all night through, guilt ridden as a twisted slideshow of him and Ginny played continuously in his head; kissing in the common room, a small hand clutching his after Dumbledore died, kissing in the corridor during the battle, the day Ron prompted him to propose to her and he knelt down on one knee, the drunken kisses exchanged on their wedding night.

Harry clutching _her_ hand as she lay in a cold sweat, dying. Her whispering she was pregnant.  
Her heartbeat slowing to a stop.

Ginny, laughing in the park, with golden red leaves tumbling around her, decorating her hair and scarf as she pulled Harry into a windswept-yet-warm kiss-

-Draco, inches from Harry, Harry's eyes flicking between his slight parted pink lips, Draco's own grey eyes warm and intense, with white strands falling gracefully into them-

Harry Potter tossed and turned all night.

.-.  
Sufficient to say by morning he was both tired and nervous as seven am grew ever closer, and Draco's entrance imminent. He had no idea, of course, how Draco had taken the events of the day before; Draco Malfoy was completely and irrevocably unpredictable.

Harry had worked out that the indication would be whether or not Draco walked straight to Harry's bedside as usual to read the papers, their own little routine that Draco did not have with any other patient.

Time moved slowly, but seven eventually struck and Harry found himself watching the door, inexplicably nervous. Although he had been expecting it, he still jumped when the double doors swung inward and Draco arrived, strutting importantly as every Malfoy did, his white coat swinging around his suit - and a tightly rolled newspaper in one white hand.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as Draco walked to him as usual; but his expression neutral and unreadable for once. Harry was used to warm, encouraging smiles and concerned questions.

Perhaps Draco considered him recovered enough for him to act as he normally would - colder and unreadable - and the rest had been an act for the invalid.

He sincerely hoped not, and that today was just a one off, as a result of yesterday's boundaries-being-pushed incident.  
Draco was playing it safe.  
Hopefully.

"Good morning," Draco said politely as he took his customary seat by Harry's side.

"Hello." Harry replied quickly, his eyes flicking over Draco's suit - grey today. Harry caught himself noting that they brought out his piercing pale eyes.

Draco unfurled the newspaper and his mouth dropped open the minute his eyes set upon the front page. He hurriedly closed the newspaper and rolled it up again, as if that would protect Harry from ever knowing what it said.

"What?" Harry asked automatically, his stomach sinking horribly. "Draco, tell me."

Draco shook his head violently, blonde strands of hair falling into disarray.

"No way." he said firmly. "Good grief," Harry heard him murmur, shaking his head at the now rolled up newspaper.

"What _is_ it Malfoy?" Harry asked irritably, folding his arms and scowling. Draco surveyed him for a second with an identical scowl, and despite the apparent seriousness of the situation, Harry couldn't help but laugh at the way they were looking at each other, and he saw Draco's lips twitch until he was smirking too.

"All right." he said finally, with a long-suffering sigh, removing the warmth of his hand from Harry's arm. "But don't say I didn't warn you Potter..." He unrolled the newspaper and turned it round so that Harry could read it.

**HARRY POTTER 'CRITICALLY ILL' IN HOSPITAL**

**GRIEF TOO MUCH FOR THE CHOSEN ONE AS HE SUFFERS FROM ALCOHOL OVERDOSE**

Underneath was a picture taken earlier in the year of Harry and Ginny.

Harry's heart dropped even lower; the feeling of sick intensified as he stared at the picture without really seeing it.

"No..." he gasped, breathing heavily. Cold sweat had broken out over his skin.

Draco looked positively alarmed at his reaction; he placed a steadying hand on Harry's arm.

"Pot- Harry- are you okay?" he asked, peering concernedly into Harry's white face.

"How-?" Harry managed, unable to take his eyes away from the picture.

Draco turned the paper back to himself and read it quickly. He grimaced and looked up at Harry apologetically.

"That Chang girl. It says here - _'Harry Potter's close friend Miss Chang tells us Harry his in a critical condition but stable-'_" he suddenly snapped the paper shut contemptuously and threw it to the floor.

"I mean, really-" he spat, staring angrily at it as if he could disintegrate it merely with his eyes. Harry watched him as the feeling of sick began to dull and be replaced with a new feeling; pride and affection for Draco, who was sitting here, angry on Harry's behalf, his white hands curled up into protective fists, as if he could beat up all the people that had wrote this about Harry-

Harry smiled weakly at Draco, and Draco stopped muttering angrily to stare at him, amazed at Harry's lack of fury and shock. Then his own anger seemed to melt away as he looked at Harry.

Finally he smiled back, a beautiful smile with gleaming white teeth, a smile that set Harry's heart to an irregular pace, and just then the sun broke out from behind a cloud and shone through the window straight down on them, bathing the pair in the warm morning light.


	7. Chapter 7

**Clarity**

**Chapter Seven**

**_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?  
If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_**

Once Draco had cheered Harry up considerably, he moved away from Harry's bedside, although apparently reluctantly, forced to cut their time short in order to survey the other patients.

Harry watched him go with a short sigh, and was startled when a voice piped up.

"You're lucky."

Harry turned to see Michael Corner staring after Draco too, with an almost wistful look on his face. Irritation curled up in his stomach; what did he care about Draco?

"Why?" Harry asked gruffly.

"You get so much attention from Healer Malfoy. The rest of us just have our own thoughts for company, while you two are practically inseparable." Michael replied, apparently unable to keep the bitter tone out of his voice.

Harry did not reply but looked away thoughtfully at Draco, looking but not seeing. He realised with a pang of guilt that this was true; he hadn't fully realised the extent of Draco's preference for him until Michael had pointed it out.

It was hardly fair on the other patients if Draco favoured him.

And there was another thing; since when had Draco been _Draco_ and not Malfoy? Harry closed his eyes and tried to make sense of the many thoughts that clamoured his attention.

Some time later, he was still lying with his eyes closed when Draco's voice cut through his lazy thoughts, the familiar tone dragging him back to consciousness. He realised it sounded sharper than normal, and he listened curiously, eyes still closed.

"No, I'm afraid you can't just disturb my patient like that-"

A low mumble of another voice he could not discern; he could only pick out Draco's at what presumably was a long distance because he had recently become so well attuned to it's sound.

"I don't care! He's still under my charge!" Draco's voice grew more irritable and protective, and Harry strained his ears to hear who the patient in question was, strangely hoping that it was him Draco was talking about to this unknown person-

"Yes, exactly, Harry's been seriously ill as you say, so he does not need this to alarm him and hinder his progress! Good grief, do you really think this will help him?"

It _was_ him, Harry realised with a sort of grim satisfaction. His heart felt unusually large in his chest as he listened to Draco defend him.

"It will completely undo all of the excellent progress he's made - do you even know how far he's come?" Draco asked, fierce pride shining through his words.

"He's done amazingly well, and it is of the utmost importance that we do not expose him to anything that will send him back into the depressive state he is detained here for - _surely_ you understand that? I have been working hard to keep him from slipping back into the depression, and somedays I can see he's been dangerously close. I can see the grief is threatening to overcome him but he always manages to throw it off. Do you understand how hard that must be for him to do? I've never quite seen a person like him-"

There was a murmur of voices and Draco gave a short laugh.

"Yes, you're right, I'm sure many would say that, but from a Healer's point of view - he's come so far, and I cannot permit you to undo that Granger-"

Harry didn't listen to anymore; he couldn't, his mind was numbed. _Granger_.  
Hermione Granger.

He felt panic creep over him; Draco was right, he couldn't deal with this yet; he couldn't deal with all the memories that Hermione would bring, all of the people gone-

Harry started shaking convulsively, and his eyes flew open in panic. He didn't hear footsteps approaching but the next thing he saw was Draco rushing to his side, white blond hair and coat flying, an alarmed expression on his face.

"Harry. Calm down. It's alright. Everything's alright." he gripped Harry's shoulders, but not tightly, and Harry relented against the warm pressure and eventually settled back down into his pillow. Draco's hands remained gently on his shoulders, his eyes concerned and questioning.

"I'm fine." Harry whispered, although he was not sure it was true. He knew Draco wasn't sure either, but after a long, searching look, he turned back to Hermione who was watching them with wide, shocked eyes, her jaw dropped.

"_See what you've done?_" Harry heard Draco hiss furiously. Hermione's brown eyes continuously flickered between Harry and Draco, and Harry only noticed then how Draco's body was curved slightly around Harry's, as if to protect him.

Of course. The last time she saw them together they hated each other and referred to the other by his last name. Now Harry trusted him with his life and depended on him more than he'd like to believe.

"Harry-" she started, tears swimming in her eyes at the sight of her best friend lying hospitalised. Harry didn't have to look in a mirror to know he looked as if he'd been to hell and back, all bloodshot eyes, translucent skin and dark rings under his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she cried, rushed to his side, wringing her hands fretfully. Draco hovered in the background uncertainly, looking to Harry for confirmation that Hermione's presence was okay. Harry gave him a tiny nod, probably imperceptible to anyone else, but Draco saw it immediately and turned sharply on his heel.

"I should have done more! I should have broke into your house when you wouldn't let me in, I should have stopped you when I could!" Hermione moaned, tears gushing down her face.

"This is all my fault! I've been such a poor friend to you Harry, I should have done more, and I was so worried when you didn't answer my calls this last month-"

Harry held up his hand to stop her, and then silently put it in hers. She took it gratefully and gave it a small squeeze with a watery smile. She sat there all day, holding his hand, apparently not wishing to move, even though Harry wasn't up to talking. He did watch though.

When he wasn't watching Hermione, he was watching Draco Malfoy pace restlessly up and down the ward, shooting Hermione daggers.  
Or more specifically, glaring at the hand of Harry's that was enfolded in her own - long, frustrated glares that Harry wished he knew the meaning behind.

.-.  
It had been a very long day for Draco Malfoy.

Ever since that stupid Mudblood _Granger_ had arrived she had been nothing but a fucking nuisance.

First, she had the audacity to question his word, _he_, Potter's Healer, as if being an insufferable swot made her more knowledgable on rehabilitation than he was.

Then she had bloody distressed Potter, his patient, who had been doing so well recently and was becoming more and more talkative and less and less reclusive.

She had probably forced him straight back into the protective shell he his from the world in, that Draco had worked so hard to get him out of.

Draco huffed irritably as he paced past Harry's bed once more.

The part that _really_ annoyed him was how she sat silently by his bed, clutching his hand possessively.

Draco was so used to being the only one who paid attention to Potter, the only one to touch him that it stirred up unusual possessive feelings watching someone sit in the seat by Potter's bed - what he called _his_ seat- for hours on end, keeping Potter company.

He was extremely reluctant to let someone else keep Potter company; for the last month the only person to do that had been Draco.

Good grief, Draco, what have you done? he thought to himself ruefully.  
You're definitely in over your head now.

Never before had he felt so possessive over a patient.

He was a Malfoy; for the main part he was detached and cool, even towards patients he kept a certain distance.

They would come and go, and life would go on.

But of course Potter would be the exception. He always had been, as far as Draco's attitude towards people was concerned.

And now he was far too involved.

Trouble was, he mused as he glanced at Harry on his next pace past, he didn't know how to detach himself from this boy.

How to stop caring about him more than he had for any other patient.

_More than any Healer was supposed to care about a patient. _

He dropped his head into his hands.

Yes, he was definitely in too deep now.

"Healer Malfoy? What on earth is wrong?" A voice boomed near his ear, and Draco jumped. Scowling, he saw his Head of Department, Healer Schintzvell striding over, and he resisted the urge to run away.

He loathed this man and his patronising, controlling manner.  
Draco Malfoy had never tolerated being controlled.

"Can I have a word?" Schintzvell asked before Draco could answer his question, in the type of tone that suggested that 'no' was not an option.

Draco gave him a curt nod, and his eyes flickered briefly to Harry, for reassurance that he was doing alright, before he followed the dark haired Healer out of the ward and into his office.

The door slammed behind him with a bang at a lazy flick of Schintzvell's wand, and Draco narrowed his eyes at the careless rude manner.

"What do you want?" he asked bluntly. Unlike his father, he was never one for fake politeness.

Schintzvell indicated he should sit down, but Draco declined, standing stiffly by the door, his wand clenched behind his back.

The man indicated the newspaper on his desk, and Draco did not need to look too closely to know what the headline said.

**HARRY POTTER 'CRITICALLY ILL' IN HOSPITAL**

"I've seen it." Draco said shortly. He wondered briefly if Schintzvell was angry at the him for Harry's condition being exposed, but he could hardly imagine that was the case.

"It's all very good publicity, you know." Schintzvell said conversationally, and Draco's head snapped up to stare at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked sharply. A small smile hooked the corner of Schintzvell's mouth.

"Having the famous Harry Potter cared for in our ward... it's very good for business."

Draco stared at him coldly.

"I suppose." he said in a flat tone when Schintzvell looked at him expectantly.

"It was only revealed thanks to a Miss Chang... and I bet she got a pretty price for the information. It got me thinking - and I'm sure you'll agree - it would be extremely beneficial to the department and it's funding if we could make some well-meaning money out of this scenario..."

"Excuse me?" Draco asked slowly, fury building up in his chest.

"Well if the newspapers started printing more about Harry Potter, exclusive things, you know the type, things only close friends would know... well the person who told them would be... very well rewarded, if you know what I mean."

"I'm sure I don't." Draco managed to spit out acidly.

Even his childhood of backstabbing and spiteful secret telling did not protect him from the shock of what he was hearing.

Schintzvell leaned further over the desk, his eyes gleaming.

"Don't play the fool, Malfoy. Do not think I haven't noticed how close you and Potter are. This is perfect. Extract some nuggets of rare information and tell me them. One by one we'll sell them to the Daily Prophet." he grinned wickedly.  
"Our vaults in Gringotts will be fuller within an hour."

"I thought it was for departmental funding?" Draco somehow achieving sarcasm when he was shaking with fury.

Schintzvell winked as he said, "Yes, _departmental funding_, that's right."

The casual greediness made something snap inside Draco, and the composure he'd been trying to maintain broke.

"And what if I don't _want_ to sell Potter's secrets to the press?" Draco asked, icy fury colouring every word.

Schintzvell's face hardened immediately and he smirked menacingly.

"You'll lose your position at the hospital, of course. I'll report you for indecent behaviour towards patients, therefore making sure you won't get another decent job in your lifetime. Then I think I'll cast a dirty great memory charm, to wipe out all your precious memories. But if I'm feeling particularly mean-"

His smile widened.

"- I'll just kill you."

**_I hate Dramione._**

**_let me know what you thought :)_**


	8. Chapter 8

**Clarity**

**Chapter Eight**

**_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?  
If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_**

Hermione didn't visit again.

On some days, Harry wondered why. He wondered why his best friend had deserted him when he needed her most. Why she was happy to leave him alone day after day on the same cold hospital bed.

On other days, he found it hard to care. Life came and went; little things like a friend's absence seemed inconsequential.

Today he was having one of the former days.

"All my friends have left me." he mumbled somewhat incoherently to Draco, who looked up from the magazine he was reading. His eyes searched Harry's quickly, and then he sighed, a tiny crease forming between his eyebrows.

"I noticed." he murmured. "I haven't left." he added, in a lighter tone.

"You can't leave." Harry pointed out in a flat tone. "You're my Healer."

"I wouldn't leave even if I wasn't your Healer." Draco said quietly, his eyes fixed determinedly on the glossy magazine.

"I don't give a damn what you'd do." Harry said. He wasn't thinking through what he was saying; he was in one of his moods where he considered everything to be inconsequential anyway - it didn't matter what he said.

Draco gave him a hard look of mingled anger and shock, before his expression cleared and set into his professional mask; he stood up quickly.

"I'll leave you to it, then." he said coolly, and strode off before he could hear Harry's mumbled "Good!".

.-.  
Draco did not read the newspapers to Harry the next morning.

Harry's tired eyes followed Draco as he walked from bed to bed, whether he was smiling patiently and cracking jokes, or frowning concernedly and plumping up pillows.

All the while, he maintained a distance between Harry and himself, a cool barrier that effectively cut Harry off from the only person in his world.

It was only now he realised how dependent he was on Draco for everything - conversation, news, company - Draco was his personal entertainment centre and then some.

He regretted his words but he wouldn't take them back now, for the sake of his Potter stubbornness and pride. He just watched Draco sulkily, a graceful pale figure flitting from place to place, dancing around Harry.

And he felt utterly woebegone and alone. Hermione wasn't coming back, she had her own busy life to get on with now. Ron - Harry didn't even know what to think about his friend's absence.

He had no family to speak of. No wife. Draco was the only friend he had right now, and Harry was pushing him away.

Fuck my pride, Harry thought tiredly. He turned over in bed, closing his eyes to plan what he would say.

When he opened his eyes again, the light had changed considerably in the small ward, and he realised he had fallen asleep. He rubbed his eyes slowly, and then stopped. His glasses weren't on, as they had been when he'd fallen asleep.

He groped clumsily on the bedside table until he found them, and with the new clarity he could see his sheets had been changed too.  
So he'd missed Draco while he'd slept.

Angry with himself, Harry propped himself up on his pillows and surveyed the ward. It was quiet, save for the beeps of the machines. No one was talking; Draco wasn't here.

Harry hurriedly consulted the white clock. It was only 18:38; long before Draco's shift ended.

He watched the ward blankly as he waited for Draco to appear. He felt emotionless and empty. He was having what some would call an existential crisis - he didn't see the purpose in life anymore.

He had no family, no wife, no jobs, no plans, and in five months he would no longer have the person he felt closest to in the world.

The beeps by his bed began to ping insistently, but Harry only heard them distantly as if at the other end of a great tunnel. He was too busy listening to the sound of approaching footsteps, echoing down the long corridor beyond the ward.

The double doors swung open, sounding unusually loud in the gloom of the ward. Harry's eyes flashed to the door and his heart plummeted.

A tall woman with glossy, long brown hair was standing next to Draco, her eyes narrowed intently at Harry, before turning back, wide and questioning to Draco.

Draco too was looking at Harry, but quickly looked away and back at the woman.

"Maybe I should go." the woman murmured, tossing her long hair back. Draco nodded swiftly and bent down, placing a kiss on her cheek, his eyes lingering on her heart-shaped face.

"It was good to see you." he said in his quiet, strong voice, and she smiled prettily before walking out elegantly.

Harry's heart was thudding and he felt sick to the stomach. He felt insane jealousy rage up within him; he couldn't explain it as he had no idea why he should feel jealous. He didn't feel jealous of Draco talking to the girl, but the other way round...

Even Draco had someone he valued more than Harry, it would seem.

Of course he does, he thought angrily. Why should I assume he values me best? I'm just another generic patient to him, a salary. At the end of the day he can leave me behind for someone better.

I'm the only one stupid enough to care for the first person to show a bit of interest in me, he scolded himself. His heart rate picked up. I'll be left behind, he realised with panic. Then I'll have no one left. No one understands the way I think and my depressive moods like he does...

I can't live without him. he thought, breathing heavily and quickly. But I'll have to. I can't have him - he's my Healer, he only holds a kind, professional interest in me, and he's Draco _fecking_ Malfoy in any case, we're meant to hate each other...

Suddenly he heard a loud wailing noise, like an alarm, and he was shocked out of his depressive thoughts with a jolt.

"What the-" he gasped, staring around wildly. His revolving eyes landed on Draco, who was running over, swishing his wand in a complicated motion. The wailing stopped instantly.

"Depressive wards. I set them up so I would know straight away if your condition detiorated." he explained quietly, avoiding Harry's gaze as he conjured up a list of some sort. His eyes scanned the page and he sighed every so often. His expression was somewhat softer when he looked up again and took a seat by Harry's bed.

"What provoked this, Harry?" he asked gently. Harry gazed at him wordlessly, not knowing what to answer, just relishing the fact that Draco was here.

"Don't leave me," he whispered suddenly, desperately his crazed eyes finding Draco's. Draco's clear grey eyes widened in surprise as he surmised what had upset Harry.

"I won't." he whispered back. Looking into his eyes, Harry found that he believed him, and trusted Draco completely.

They lapsed into a contemplative silence, their eyes lingering carefully over one another. Harry drank in the sight of the pale, willowy man taking vigil by his bedside, and he gave a contented sigh. His thoughts quickly returned to the brown haired woman, however.

"Who was that women?" he asked quickly, before he could stop himself.

Draco's eyes darted up from looking at Harry's hand in surprise.

"Didn't you recognise her? That was Pansy."

_Pansy Parkinson_. Draco's suspected pure blood girlfriend from Hogwarts, and now probably his wife. It would make sense; Harry could just imagine Lucius Malfoy considering Pansy ideal for Draco.

"Oh right." Harry said quietly, staring without seeing at the starch white blanket which came up to his waist.  
"Are you two...?" he trailed off, hoping the answer would not be I'm the affirmative.

Draco started, and hastened to correct him.  
"Good grief, no! We would kill each other within days! Apart from that, I..." Now it was his turn to leave the sentence open ended. His cheeks tinged slightly pink.

"Definitely not. I would have to murder her." he finished quickly, but Harry had the feeling that wasn't what he had been going to say at all.

"A good couple doesn't live harmoniously; they have heated debates over their coffee, and tease and antagonise each other." Harry said, surprising even himself.

A massive, incomprehensible truth was creeping up on him - were he and Ginny well suited after all? She was so compliant, so... obliging. Every day spent with Draco made Harry a little less sad about her passing, and a little more doubtful of their 'perfect' coupling.

Draco stared at him as if seeing him for the first time, entranced and utterly fascinated. He tore his eyes away to stare down at his hand again.

"Yes, I suppose there is something to be said for 'opposites attract'" Draco murmured, his voice unintentionally low and tempting.

Harry felt a stirring in his groin.

He noticed that Draco shifted his hand slightly as he spoke, so that the ivory, slender hand lay mere inches away from the tanned one. They contrasted starkly, and Draco's words "_Opposites attract_," seemed to reverberate in the air.

Harry's gaze was caught in Draco's, the pale silver eyes darkening to burning grey. His breath caught; there was too much intimacy in this look for there to be an innocent reason, they had overstepped the boundaries of Healer and patient, of friends, even.

Draco's fingers slid falteringly, hesitantly over the duvet, before suddenly twining through Harry's and squeezing.

Harry's breath hitched again and he tore his eyes away from the sight of the tanned and pale hands laced together to see Draco's eyes shining.

That look was all it took to make Harry forget that he was ill, forget that he was depressive, forget all the confusion and upset that clouded his life because this shining look from Draco made everything heal and cleanse; it was as if Draco was his remedy-

Harry did not let go of his hand for a very long time.

**_sorry this chapter was a long time in coming (no innuendos, pls)_**

**_i'm also sorry if you feel this is slow moving, but that is the intention. I wanted to write a fic where they weren't pronouncing love for each other within half a dozen chapters, you know? i'm just trying to establish some suspense, but stick with it because I'll make it worth your while :)_**


	9. Chapter 9

**Clarity**

**Chapter Nine**

**_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?_**

**_If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_**

"You've been making some good progress," Draco said in his usual low murmur, the seldom used one, brought out only when he addressed Harry, the one that made Harry's stomach coil up tight.

Harry watched him consulting charts with large eyes, batting them irritably as stray strands of hair fell into his eyes. Draco was watching him out of the corner of his eye, as he did whenever Harry was near him, and he tutted amusedly.

"Your hair is growing dreadfully long." he commented, unable to keep the critical note out of his voice. "It looks rather like that shaggy look you styled in fourth year."

Harry raised an eyebrow and Draco hastily added, "It was beautiful, though." and Harry smirked in approval. The more time he spent with Draco, the more high spirited he became, Draco had noted.

They were approaching their second month together and Harry was unconsciously adopting Draco's smirks and sneers, his little mannerisms and phrases.  
Draco had noted that, too.

"Well I can't do much about it." Harry sighed, twiddling a brown strand through his fingertips, glancing slyly at Draco out of the corner of his eye.

"It's not really part of my job description, Harry-" Draco protested immediately, seeing Harry's hopeful look. Harry focused his gaze fiercely on Draco's, and Draco melted.

"Fine," he muttered, defeated. With a quick flick of his wand he produced a pair of steel scissors. He carefully sat on the side of Harry's bed and leaned into his face.

Suddenly Harry was acutely aware of Draco's shallow breaths, blowing gently across his face, and Harry's own breathing hitched.

Draco, mere inches away from Harry's face, was gazing absently at Harry, seemingly unaware of the position he was sat in. His body had curved over the front of Harry's from where he was sitting, one pale hand firmly planted by Harry's thigh; the other vaguely waving scissors near his shoulder, whilst his brain was otherwise distracted by their rare proximity.

"Draco?" Harry whispered finally, feeling pressured to break the silence. Draco's intense grey eyes blinked and focused; he hurriedly looked away from Harry and busied himself with tugging at strands of hair to compare lengths.

Harry jumped suddenly. Draco's long, cool fingers were probing his scalp and it felt - oh - so good. Delicious shivers chased down his back; two months of solidarity and three of sexual frustration had led to his nerves being tightly wound up and hypersensitive.

He gasped and his eyes fluttered shut as Draco unconsciously massaged his head, his eyes flitting over Harry's expression of utter pleasure, being alive, a stark contrast from the permanently drawn and depressive look.

Draco didn't _mean_ to stare, he really didn't. It was just that Harry was so perfect; his cheekbones looked as if God had chiselled them himself, his lips were full and slightly parted in pleasure, and those eyes - intense and so _green_.

This boy was bloody gorgeous, Draco thought absently, momentarily unaware of the fact that he was a Healer and this was his patient.

And then the massaging sensations stopped, and Harry's eyes lazily opened as Draco gently pulled at strands of hair and snipped them. Short ends of hair fluttered slowly into Harry's lap but he did not notice; he was captivated by Draco's presence.

He felt as if an electric current was sizzling between them; neither of them could stop their eyes from shamelessly roving over the other's face, before darting away guiltily. But now Draco was closer than ever before, he had to be to cut Harry's hair successfully.

Harry watched as Draco's silver eyes, burning molten, focused on Harry's hair with concentration, not noticing Harry's avid staring.

After every snip, Draco's eyes immediately returned to Harry's, as if to check he was still there, and Harry gulped as their eyes met and he was caught staring. Draco did not look away and neither did he; Harry had never been more conscious of the electricity that crackled in the air between them - as they wondered what the other was thinking, feeling, wondering what could be-

"I'll do your fringe now." Draco whispered, his spearmint breath washing over Harry deliciously. Harry nodded mutely and Draco's cool fingers settled on his forehead, collecting the hair together there and snipping. When he was done, however, he did not take his fingers away, but lingered them over Harry's scar.

Harry breathed faster.

Draco fingers gently skated down his face, over his cheekbones and down his jawline. Harry vaguely wondered what this would look like to anyone watching but found he did not care, this was the best sensation he could remember in - well, ever. Which, in some ways was worrying, as no matter what his late wife had done  
to him, it did not compare to this man stroking his face so tenderly.

Draco's fingers came to rest on Harry's chin, tantalisingly close to his lips. Harry licked his lips unconsciously, and Draco watched the movement with fascination, moving in closer, closing the few inches left between them.

Now there was no more than 5cm,10cm, between their lips and Harry could practically taste Draco's breath on his tongue. He pressed forward, his eyes fluttering closed-

Draco leapt back with a jolt, the bed creaking in protest, and Harry's eyes flew open in shock.

"Potter- _Harry_- I've got to- there's something I need to-" Draco stammered, unusually ineloquent.

He strode out of sight quickly, his white Healer's coat flying.

Harry wearily sank back into his pillow, wondering if he'd quite possibly ruined it all.

.-,

"Healer Malfoy doesn't seem to be about today." Michael Corner commented from the next bed over. Harry scowled at the ceiling before turning to look at him.

"No," he agreed shortly.

"I saw him give you a haircut earlier but he hasn't been in since, all day." Michael persisted.

Harry shrugged non-commitally.

"He's probably doing a shift in the lounge." Michael carried on, seemingly unaware of Harry's unwillingness to talk about Draco. This, however, caught his attention.

"The lounge?" he asked, startled. "What's that?"

"It's a type of communal living area-" Michael began in slow tones that one adopts when explaining the obvious. Harry resisted the urge to swear at him, but it was a close thing.

"I know what a lounge is." he interrupted irritably. "We have one here? In the rehabilitation department?" he asked.

"Yes, didn't you know?" Michael said, in superior tones. "Did you think we were just expected to lie here all day? Where did you think some of us went when he left our beds for hours on end?" he asked, smugly revelling in Harry's stupidity.

"I don't know..." Harry admitted uncomfortably. He'd been so self-absorbed and depressed lately, he hadn't given the anyone other than himself and Draco a second's thought. Now he cursed himself for being so unobservant.

"How come Draco never does shifts in there then?" Harry asked, trying to conceal just how interested in the topic of their Healer he was.

"I don't know." Michael frowned, but then his expression lit up excitedly, and he leaned in confidentially, propping himself up on his elbow. He was clearly enjoying being the centre of Harry's attention.

"I heard-" he whispered in carrying tones. "From Gideon - you know Gideon, fellow over there? No?- who's been here for six months, that a few months ago Healer Malfoy was rarely seen on the ward. Did his shifts in the lounge. That is, until about two months ago, when he suddenly switched to a full time ward shift. Gideon reckons he'd barely set foot in here during daylight hours prior to two months ago."

Harry gaped wordlessly, barely hoping that what he guessed was true. Draco had changed all his shifts; from a comfy, chatty lounge job- to a full on, stressful ward job- purely to be with Harry?

Did this mean-

Draco - but surely not...

"I'm going to the lounge." Harry said impulsively, swinging his legs over the side of the bed with a new found energy. He rarely left his bed - two or three times a day for the bathroom- but today was different.

Michael stared at him in surprise, taken aback by Harry's sudden change in attitude.

"Which way is it?" Harry asked brightly, smoothing down his snitch patterned pyjamas.

"Through the double doors at the end of the ward, to your left." Michael said a little faintly, still gazing at Harry.

"Thanks." Harry said shortly, and he padded down the cold linoleum to the end of the ward. He was pleased to find that he wasn't stopped by the time he reached the double doors he stared at every morning, and he pushed them open confidently.

He took a sharp left, and found himself walking into a large, light open space, scattered with soft colourful sofas centred around coffee tables. A radio was murmuring quietly in the background, and as Harry inhaled deeply he smelt coffee beans. On the far wall on his right was a small coffee bar, where self pouring pots of tea and coffee were waiting.

Harry's eyes were drawn however, not to the coffee but to a purple sofa in the centre of the room, which held Draco and Healer Schintzell. They appeared to be holding a fierce argument.

A tall frothy cappuccino sat untouched on the table.  
(Harry could only assume it was Draco's; he somehow couldn't picture Schintzvell as a cappuccino drinker.)

"I just need more _time_!" Draco was saying hotly, wringing his hands in anger. His eyes flicked to Harry, and Schintzvell, who had his back to Harry, noticed and turned around too.

"Mr Potter!" he boomed, immediately assembling his face into a friendly expression. "How marvellous to see you up and about! We may not have much time left with you!"

At his words he surreptitiously gave Draco a meaningful look, and Draco averted his gaze, sighing. Schintzvell strode past Harry as he left. Harry gave him an absent nod, his eyes fixed on the pale tall man who was staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"You're out of bed," Draco finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper but still audible across the empty lounge.

"Yeah," Harry said somewhat pointlessly, twisting his fingers together nervously. He wanted to say something about that morning - perhaps laugh it off- but he was interrupted by Draco, whose eyes were fixedly following Harry's moving fingers.

"I've never seen you in the lounge before." Draco commented carefully, consciously keeping any emotion from his voice. He could have been saying that the weather looked nice.

"No," Harry agreed. "I didn't even know we had a lounge." He advanced a few steps closed to Draco, until they were standing a few feet apart, the pale man in the pale clothes and the darker man in the darker clothes.

"I've never seen you work in the lounge, either." he continued quietly, watching Draco's expression carefully. "Why don't you?"

Draco shrugged cautiously, still staring at Harry's hands. "I just prefer the ward." he said dully.

Harry fixed him with a stare. "Only for the last couple of months, apparently." he said, and Draco's head snapped up sharply.

"I don't know what you're insinuating." he said in a quietly angry tone, his eyes flashing.

"Gideon said you used to spend all your time in here before I came." Harry said. It wasn't strictly true of course, Gideon had not said this at all, but it was what Harry had surmised.

"Maybe I did." Draco said, attempting to shrug indifferently, however Harry noticed his shoulders shaking.

"Why the change?" Harry asked softly, his feet hesitantly moving forward and closing the gap. They were now no more than two feet away.

Draco sat down sharply with a frustrated groan, his pale cheeks stained with colour.

"What does it _matter_, Harry?" he asked in an almost pleading tone. "Just leave it alone, okay?"

Harry sat down next to him cautiously.

"I can't leave it alone." he said softly, and Draco groaned again. "You know me, Draco. Somethings never change. I was never able to just leave things alone, especially when it came to you. You know that."

Draco raked his hair in frustration, his eyes flashing and his breathing quick. He looked quite demented.

"Don't you see?" he moaned, perhaps more to himself than to Harry. "It would be best for both of us if you stopped asking questions! Who cares if I switched positions-"

"I care," Harry said loudly. Draco turned to look at him, his eyes gleaming.

"What do you want to hear from me?" he demanded. "That I changed positions to be with you, to be by your side, because for some irrevocable, unchangeable, inexplicable reason I find myself drawn to you?" he broke off in cracked tone, his eyes shining with emotion, his body shaking.

"Yes," Harry whispered simply.

And then Draco seized the back of Harry's neck and roughly pulled him forward into a kiss.

**_What did you think? Just bear in mind this is a hurt/comfort story... It's not plain sailing yet... :)_**


	10. Chapter 10

**Clarity**

**Chapter 10**

**_If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?_**

**_If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?_**

This was not a kiss to instantly draw away from in a panic, no matter how much Harry wanted to.

It was too damn good.

And by good he meant _mind blowing_, passion evoking, desperate, breathless and erotic.  
And a long time coming.

At first it was just his lips on Draco's, but then Harry parted his unconsciously and Draco used the gap to latch onto his bottom lip and suck at it, before his tongue braved the gap and tangled with Harry's in a hot, wet embrace.

Harry almost whited out when he felt the tongue touch his, the smooth wetness of someone else made his blood sing and a sensation overload.

And then the bland, emptiness he was used to returned with startling speed, in stark contrast to the hot passion (that had only lasted all of ten seconds in reality).

Draco had drawn away, his lips shiny with Harry's saliva and his cheeks flushed with excitement and pleasure - but his eyes worried and growing steadily more reserved.

"Oh lord," he mumbled, hastily standing up and running a shaky hand through his shock of white blond hair. He gazed behind them in shock at the colourful scenery of the lounge, before his eyes flashed back to Harry's with a look of abject horror.

"I'm so - so sorry, Harry." he said wildly, looking at him the same way one would look at an apparition.

Harry quickly found his voice, seeing the way this was going. Draco was going to be noble for once in his life, and take the blame.

"Draco - no - don't be sorry," he begged, leaping to his feet. "You did nothing wrong." Draco gave him a derogatory look.

"Well, technically you did," Harry amended, maintaining his gaze. "But regulations aside, don't you dare think you've forced yourself on me. I wanted that just as much as you did. If not more," he added, thoughtfully.

He felt surprisingly calm in a potentially worrying situation.

The attention his mouth had just received seemed to have acted as a soothing balm to his raw need that Ginny had left, and he felt truly level headed for the first time in months.  
Since her death.

Draco gave him a disbelieving look, and pleasure flickered within Harry. At least Draco wasn't denying his feelings.

"This is so wrong," Draco whispered fretfully, running another frantic hand through his hair. "I'm your Healer. You could be taken frontman this department and I could get fired and denied any job I wanted in the future!" Harry moved closer, to comfort him, but Draco sprang away.

"I shouldn't have kissed you!" he said urgently, in barely audible tones. "You're my patient, it was entirely inappropriate to even feel like this in the first place. I should have tried to keep the feelings at bay a little longer..." his voice grew fainter as he muttered furiously to himself.

Harry own caught phrases such as "I was doing so well at ignoring them..." and "I can never seem to keep away from the famous Potter... Father was right..." which made his stomach leap pleasantly.

He felt almost _enlightened_; he hadn't realised until this moment that he'd been lying to himself about Draco Malfoy, on a colossal scale.

He was incredibly attracted to him.

His wit, his humour, his looks, his personality- they were so different to Ginny's, but a tiny voice in Harry's head, a madly optimistic one, whispered that perhaps Draco was the perfect person to complement Harry, and maybe they were... perfect for each other?

Harry's unrealistic, idealistic ramblings were caught short by Draco turning to look at him fiercely. Harry swallowed at the intensity of the stare.

"I don't know what I am going to do," Draco murmured in a quiet but strong voice. "But I am sincerely apologetic for initiating this. I know you wanted it too-" he added swiftly, at the look on Harry's face.

"-which is all the more reason for me not to raise your hopes. It seems we both want this, but for the next four months at least, it cannot be so. I am your Healer and we cannot possibly continue this. We would get caught - and in any case, it's practically rule number one in the Healer handbook."

Harry chuckled sadly, conscious of what a beautiful, funny man he was letting of.

But Draco was right.  
There was still something he wanted to clarify, though.

"Will you still be my Healer?" he asked quietly, a worried expression on his face.

Draco's expression softened at the sight of him, and for a second he looked as if he wanted to hold Harry, but thought better of it.

"Lord knows, I don't know I could tell Schintzvell to allow me to be otherwise." he grimaced for a second at some unknown thought. But then his pale grey eyes met Harry's, and he spoke gently. "But I wouldn't want to be anything but. I'm in too deep to just let you go and allow someone else to look after you daily now." he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I want to be the one to do that. But I can't be anything more. We must carry on as normal - as if we never kissed. "

Harry nodded sadly, and stared down at his feet as Draco moved to go. He jumped slightly, startled, as he felt a cool hand momentarily grasp his.

"But don't you dare forget that I carry these feelings for you, Harry." Draco whispered fiercely, his eyes burning molten silver. "I _will_ wait for you. Don't you ever forget that."

**_Short but sweet. I hope. You can expect a longer chapter extremely soon:)_**


End file.
